The First Scene Of Childhood
the first scene
is white. Against the snow
trees without leaves
beneath their feet
are the fallen
leaves,
red,
the air is cold, and howling
no one lives here
anymore.
do not go there,
it can make you like myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Winter With a Question
The aging trees will creak and groan
To find themselves ringed by frost in sleep
And snow by the wind already blown
Cast upon snow already deep.
The cold is echoed only by silence all,
And the leaves of Autumn entombed in white
At the place where leaves fall
And passing time, vanish from sight.
Who is it that judges these—
Sends leaves beneath the snow
And trees to shiver alongside trees? —
And where do they go?
poem by Ronny Self
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The Fallen Leaves
I.
WE stand among the fallen leaves,
Young children at our play,
And laugh to see the yellow things
Go rustling on their way:
Right merrily we hunt them down,
The autumn winds and we,
Nor pause to gaze where snow-drifts lie,
Or sunbeams gild the tree:
With dancing feet we leap along
Where wither'd boughs are strown;
Nor past nor future checks our song--
The present is our own.
II.
We stand among the fallen leaves
In youth's enchanted spring--
When Hope (who wearies at the last)
First spreads her eagle wing.
We tread with steps of conscious strength
Beneath the leafless trees,
And the colour kindles on our cheek
As blows the winter breeze;
While, gazing towards the cold grey sky,
Clouded with snow and rain,
We wish the old year all past by,
And the young spring come again.
III.
We stand among the fallen leaves
In manhood's haughty prime--
When first our pausing hearts begin
To love 'the olden time;'
And, as we gaze, we sigh to think
How many a year hath pass'd
Since 'neath those cold and faded trees
Our footsteps wander'd last;
And old companions--now perchance
Estranged, forgot, or dead--
Come round us, as those autumn leaves
Are crush'd beneath our tread.
IV.
We stand among the fallen leaves
In our own autumn day--
And, tott'ring on with feeble steps,
Pursue our cheerless way.
We look not back--too long ago
Hath all we loved been lost;
Nor forward--for we may not live
To see our new hope cross'd:
But on we go--the sun's faint beam
A feeble warmth imparts--
Childhood without its joy returns--
The present fills our hearts!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Holly Leaves And Christmas Trees
Somewhere in, in the distant night
I hear Christmas bells
The gentle snow keeps falling down on people
Who are homeward bound
That's the it's always been
The circle really never ends
Christmas seems to come and go
From the place that I don't know
Holly leaves and Christmas trees
It's that time of year
Lights aglow and mistletoe
Don't mean a thing when you're not here
As I walk, walk this lonely street
The sound of snow beneath my feet
I'll think of how it used to be
Holly leaves and Christmas trees
Use to mean so much to me
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Holly Leaves & Christmas Trees
(words & music by red west - glen spreen)
Somewhere in, in the distant night
I hear christmas bells
The gentle snow keeps falling down on people
Who are homeward bound
Thats the its always been
The circle really never ends
Christmas seems to come and go
From the place that I dont know
Holly leaves and christmas trees
Its that time of year
Lights aglow and mistletoe
Dont mean a thing when youre not here
As I walk, walk this lonely street
The sound of snow beneath my feet
Ill think of how it used to be
Holly leaves and christmas trees
Use to mean so much to me
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Under the Violets
HER hands are cold; her face is white;
No more her pulses come and go;
Her eyes are shut to life and light;--
Fold the white vesture, snow on snow,
And lay her where the violets blow.
But not beneath a graven stone,
To plead for tears with alien eyes;
A slender cross of wood alone
Shall say, that here a maiden lies
In peace beneath the peaceful skies.
And gray old trees of hugest limb
Shall wheel their circling shadows round
To make the scorching sunlight dim
That drinks the greenness from the ground,
And drop their dead leaves on her mound.
When o'er their boughs the squirrels run,
And through their leaves the robins call,
And, ripening in the autumn sun,
The acorns and the chestnuts fall,
Doubt not that she will heed them all.
For her the morning choir shall sing
Its matins from the branches high,
And every minstrel-voice of Spring,
That trills beneath the April sky,
Shall greet her with its earliest cry.
When, turning round their dial-track,
Eastward the lengthening shadows pass,
Her little mourners, clad in black,
The crickets, sliding through the grass,
Shall pipe for her an evening mass.
At last the rootlets of the trees
Shall find the prison where she lies,
And bear the buried dust they seize
In leaves and blossoms to the skies.
So may the soul that warmed it rise!
If any, born of kindlier blood,
Should ask, What maiden lies below?
Say only this: A tender bud,
That tried to blossom in the snow,
Lies withered where the violets blow.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Leaves of Glory
Through fallen leaves of glory on a fog-drenched path
She stands above them with everything she has
Living before the smolder of her own ashes
And desperately trying to be the one who surpasses
Sometimes she falls behind, sometimes it wears on her mind
But someday she will find the way to cross those lines
She will rise from her ashes like a phoenix reborn
Soaring above the trees who dropp their leaves of glory, and so stand torn
Sometimes she fails to look forward and glances behind
The pangs of regret try to fog her mind
But she's too strong to let them go
She holds on as fallen leaves crush beneath her toes
'Cause this girl is a flourishing rose
And above fallen petals of glory, she will always grow
poem by Frankie Renae
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The Haunted Haven
Beyond the woods
The branching oak and canopy of leaves still abide
The bench is there
The leaves still fall
The cree still flows beneath the trees
The difference is
The oak is baren
The shiny bench is covered in moss
The leaves now lie beneath my feet
The place now lacks the presence of life
Though our laughter still echoes
Haunting the place of our childhood haven
poem by Humna Hamid
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Snow on snow
Snow on snow
Flakes gently falling
Like leaves from a tree
Asking permission
Before they land
On the snowflakes underneath
Each one different
Like leaves on a tree
A white carpet
Pure white till soiled
By children’s shoes
They love its touch
Ooo snowball fights
Snow doesn’t hurt
Snow is soft and forgiving
People hurt
They are selfish and cruel
So let it snow
Snow on snow on
poem by James Hart
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A Robin
Oh, silly robin!
Worms squirm merrily
Beneath three snow feet.
Sharpen your beak
Get in there digging
They flourish indeed
Beneath three snow feet.
Fluff up your feathers
Brace the cold weather
They're naive of your presence
Beneath three snow feet.
poem by Deva De Silva
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Through My Eyes
I believe-
I believe my thoughts are being broadcasted
I believe you can see my world through my eyes-
When your eyes are closed, I believe that you can hear my thoughts
My thoughts that speak of persecution and threat
These thoughts, as directed towards the rest of the world.
I place my hands over my eyes so that
What is inside of mind does not become
The literature of other people-
Even though my thoughts are silent
When your eyes make contact with mine,
All that I am thinking screams out to you and
I know you wish to harm me.
I believe-
I believe I am being threatened
Being threatened by those who follow my path,
Walking behind me, and somehow
Knowing my destination-
The leaves upon the trees have fallen in autumn and
Now the trees are barren, and I have no place to hide.
This whole world has become the enemy.
I believe my thoughts are broadcasted as I walk,
Kicking aside stones and the leaves that have fallen-
Snow has fallen upon the edge of time and
I stand upon the edge of time, counting the minutes-
Counting every second before the whole world knows of
The anger, hurt and my thoughts misconstrued,
That are torturing me every day and every night-
All I can do is to keep on walking and hope
That one day this mistrust of the world shall
Heal inside my troubled mind and somebody’s eyes
Will make contact with mine and say
“it doesn’t matter to me what you are thinking because
You are a person with a heart and a soul like everyone else and
I believe we all have faults-“ I look towards the sky searching for an increment of hope A world exists inside of me- a beautiful world I hope someday will not matter
If I let somebody inside to see- to know my destination and
I won’t need to hide anymore- when spring comes flowers shall blossom and
Leaves shall grow in the summer- and in the autumn leaves shall turn colors and fall-
I shall continue my journey towards the day I can learn to trust the world around me,
As I kick aside the stones and the fallen leaves as I walk-
With my eyes open to the world, my spirit, unafraid.
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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George Edmunds' Song
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood's day,
Thick clust'ring on the bough!
How like those hopes in their decay-
How faded are they now!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Wither'd leaves, wither'd leaves, that fly before the gale:
Withered leaves, withered leaves, ye tell a mournful tale,
Of love once true, and friends once kind,
And happy moments fled:
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
poem by Charles Dickens
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Once Upon An Autumn Day
Once Upon an autumn day,
Colorful leaves began to fade
In the midst of a chilly, frosty air
As multitude of trees grew steadily bare.
Once upon an autumn day,
The whispering breeze was here to stay
Moving aimlessly through the countless trees
Scattering leaves with the greatest of ease.
Once upon an autumn day,
The leaves whirled freely in every way,
Until at last they came to rest
Finding a haven in which to nest.
Once upon an autumn day,
The trees were dormant, and the leaves lay
Waiting for the winter snow to fall
To quickly obscure them one and all.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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World of White
When I woke up this morning
My world was layered in white
So cold it was and very still
Snow had fallen through the night
No birds chirped a good morning
The bugs were hidden away
Instead was this harsh cold
I felt as though it would stay
I could barely see my lawn chair
For white had settled so thick
I wished I had seen it fall
This snow as it began to stick
The trees and bushes were
A fresh and lovely sight
Snow decorated the branches
Making winter look just right
We must enjoy the changes
So lovely and cold and bright
It will not last for long
This wonderful world of white!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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The Old Men In The Leaf Smoke
The old men rake the yards for winter
Burning the autumn-fallen leaves.
They have no lives, the one or the other.
The leaves are dead, the old men live
Only a little, light as a leaf,
Left to themselves of all their loves:
Light in the head most often too.
Raking the leaves, raking the lives,
Raking life and leaf together,
The old men smell of burning leaves
But which is which they wonder &mdash whether
Anyone tells the leaves and loves &mdash
Anyone left, that is, who lives.
poem by Archibald MacLeish
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In Hardwood Groves
The same leaves over and over again! They fall from giving shade above To make one texture of faded brown And fit the earth like a leather glove. Before the leaves can mount again To fill the trees with another shade, They must go down past things coming up. They must go down into the dark decayed. They must be pierced by flowers and put Beneath the feet of dancing flowers. However it is in some other world I know that this is way in ours.
poem by Robert Frost
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Feeling Numb (Sorrow Poem)
The cold snow stops me feeling
Anything, for anyone, anymore,
Which is why it’s come to needing
Escape from the consequences,
Of living my life, in a long tunnel.
The cold snow leaves a strange
Numbness, undesired at first,
But becomes a black friend who
So many desire but for most,
Is rarely found, except in a bottle.
poem by Ian Beckett
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One summer when the wind was strong
This is the place, now we are here again
I remember that summer when the wind was strong
And everything around us was dry,
The acacia trees towered and showered us with
Round leaves falling and falling and falling
Some birds were there and they flew away
Some cars were there and they speeded away
It was getting dark and it was a dry summer
We stayed there for a while when the leaves fell
Then we went under the trees not seeking shelter
But to catch those leaves falling and falling and falling
We are trying to feel again what falling was
We are here on this summer, we see the leaves
Falling and falling again to the dry wind,
We try to recall about us, but there is simply
Nothing about us anymore, but just the same
The leaves fall and fall and fall, we see them reenacting
There is that meaning; there it is in the falling
But we have outgrown it, we look for more, we hope
We can find some more, something beyond us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Autumn Goodbye
As the rich red leaves blow down the street
I slowly look down at my feet
The leaves are gone
Apart from one
I pick it up
Winter has arrived, and autumn has had to go
Goodbye colourful leaves, hello frostie snow
The conkers have gone, autumn memories fade
The weather gets worse, all the traffics delayed
The air gets colder, and the nights draw in
The noisy winter wind makes such a din
As the rich red leaves blow down the street
I slowly look down at my feet
The leaves are gone
Every last one
Autumns moved on, winters begun.
poem by Franchesca Onken
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Autumnale for M lady ernestine
The falling leaves dance in the breeze
and clothe the ground beneath the trees,
in autumn colours rich a rare.
The trees themselves will soon be bare.
Left no defence against the wind.
Their winter plans are well designed,
bare twigs and branches hold less snow
than useless leaves they have let go
The wintry gales to no avail
try hard but they are doomed to fail,
They can’t destroy the sturdy trees;
resisting with apparent ease.
Although they bow before the blast
they know that winter cannot last
The winds will die and fade away
the trees will they’re here to stay.
Spring will return the trees will green
as if the winter had not been.
The trees put on their new spring clothes
along with every plant that grows.
8-Oct-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Don't be a tree!
Not a planted tree to stay at a place,
Spreading the roots in underground space,
Looking for the sun to beg for the light,
Photosynthesis, reproduce and rot.
When the wind blows, to shake our heads,
We are not the trees that have no leads,
During the storm, to get uprooted and fall,
We are the trees that are too rigid, not flexible.
For the fallen leaves, the trees never cry,
For the fallen human, we have to voice and try,
We are the human, the rulers of the earth,
Not the trees of the soil that has no mirth.
Let us not lick the feet of anyone for our survival,
Let us not get tickled with someone's failure,
Let us not be the fools to get hoodwinked and cheated,
Let us be the survivors conquering the thoughts.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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